All of those that did hate, Now writhe and expire, in the heat of the storm's fires, All that remained, Was absolutly nothing after the rain, However I did feel a twinge of pain, Those that I loved, that I should have kept, Had also burned, So I sit there and wept for a time too long to remember, I woke up after that dream, In a sweat and tears flowing, I was cold, It was December, And all I remember, Is that I sat there knowing, That my friends are not the cause of what I am, Not one ounce, not one gram.The fact is, I am.

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